A Relevant Season
by scifiromance
Summary: Left shaken by her duty to oversee her crewmates making Christmas calls home, Seven makes one of her own, to her aunt Irene Hansen, that leaves her questioning the season more than ever, until Chakotay reassures her. C/7 Christmas themed one-shot.


**A/n: Welcome to my fluffy Christmas one-shot for 2015 everyone! Set late in season 7.**

 **I do not own Star Trek: Voyager.**

* * *

"Crewman Zamoyski, you have fifteen seconds of comm. time remaining." Seven prompted as she carefully monitored the signal from the MIDAS array.

The burly young man glanced at her ruefully over his shoulder, a frown forming over his slightly malformed nose. Seven then recalled that Zamoyski, like Commander Chakotay, preferred boxing over any other form of exercise, the Doctor continually bemoaned its rising popularity. With a blink of his glistening eyes however, he turned sharply away from her and plastered a bright smile on his face to more than match the beaming, tearful faces of the dozen family members that had crowded around to fill the viewscreen. Seven suspected as least some of them must've been standing on the toes of others to fit in. "Wesołych Świąt!" Zamoyski declared with blustering cheer.

The older woman at the centre of the family scene, one Seven knew from witnessing several less boistrous calls was his mother, while discreetly rubbing her eyes, led the reply that grew into a roaring chorus. "Wesołych Świąt Romek!" There was hardly time for Crewman Zamoyski to start to nod in reply before the signal cut out.

Seven began to feel awkward as Zamoyski sighed, leaning heavily over the Astrometrics console. She thought she even heard a sniff of emotion from the usually reserved young man. "You will be assigned another comm. time slot for three weeks from today Crewman." She advised him softly, in what she hoped was a consoling tone.

Zamoyski swallowed thickly before straightening his shoulders and heading for the door. "Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am." He replied politely, giving her a wooden, distracted nod before taking his leave.

Seven shifted uneasily from foot to foot, then forced herself to be still. The current round of comm. slots had been a trial to manage. December was such a coveted month to call home, particularly the latter half of the month, that lots had had to be drawn again, just as when they'd first used the comm. link, to ensure fairness. It had ruined her carefully allotted schedule, set up over the past two months, but in the scheme of things that had been a minor irritant. In the past few days she'd been privy to even more heartfelt conversations than usual, and seen more stoic, heartbroken spouses, worried parents, and wishful, crying children than she'd ever wanted. Once again she vowed to renew her search for reliable people to take on some of the shifts with the comm. link. She might be the most technically qualified, but now she realised she was emotionally underequipped to take on the task.

Her own comm. time chip lay heavy in her hand. Now, even more than ever, she was reluctant to use it. Given the demand, she'd been more than willing to surrender her time, but Commander Chakotay, with whom she'd first discussed the idea the day before as he came to collect her daily report from Astrometrics, had gently, though determinedly, persuaded her that her aunt would appreciate the call just as much as any other Voyager family member. A blush crept up her neck as she thought of how readily she'd given into his reasoning; yes, she was far too persuadable as far as the Commander was concerned!

She pressed her lips tightly together as she weighed what she should do, but of its own accord her hand clicked the chip into the console and the next two minutes of comm. time were unlocked by the system, not a second of the stream could afford to be wasted.

Seven's racing heart slowed as the call was immediately picked up and Irene Hansen instantly recognised her, bestowing a joyful beaming smile on her niece that Seven couldn't help but respond to with a shyly relieved one of her own. Anyone watching would've seen the family resemblance at its strongest in those wide smiles that brought heart-stopping beauty to the two fine faces, but Seven's smiles were so rare in themselves, and she never offered one to her own reflection, that she didn't see the uncanniness in the moment. "I hope you do not mind me calling now Aunt Irene, comm. time was given out in random lots again this month, not by the established schedule…"

Irene didn't hesitate cut off her self-conscious explanation. "Of course I don't mind Annika! It's wonderful to see you! I was really hoping you'd be able to call now, how lucky to get time so close to Christmas!" Her delight waned slightly, "It's a shame that your cousins and their families aren't here yet to talk to you, but they aren't arriving until tomorrow, Christmas Eve you know."

"Yes…" Seven agreed hesitantly, unsure if she _did_ know.

Irene must've read the doubt on her face, as her own softened in understanding. "Of course that might've been a little too overwhelming for you, älskling." She murmured gently, "I'm just glad we've gotten the chance to talk…" She laughed as she turned slightly to indicate the large, elaborately decorated fir tree behind her, "…and that I put the tree in line with the comm. so you could see it."

"I am glad also." Seven agreed as a matter of course, but couldn't help feeling slightly bemused. The closing of a year tended to be a time of festivities in any culture, human or not, and she'd heard enough salutations over the weeks concerning multiple customs, so much so that they hardly raised her curiosity anymore; Thanksgiving, Hanukah, she'd even heard Crewman Li discuss Chinese New Year preparations with her family although wasn't celebrated until at least February. However Christmas seemed almost universal among the humans; whether of a Christian ancestry or not, it was apparently worth mentioning. Still, it surprised her to see Irene following this pattern, she was an accomplished scientist, living in a long secularised part of Earth from what she understood. "Aunt Irene, were my parents religious?" she asked suddenly.

Irene gave a short start of surprise, but had been growing accustomed enough to her niece's unconventional takes on conversation that she recovered quickly. She'd learned it was best just to answer any questions, no matter how out of left field they happened to be. "Magnus and Erin, religious?" she echoed with a small laugh, "Hardly. I suppose they were atheists, as far as it goes."

"And that length does not go as far as to exclude Christmas?"

"Well…no." Irene replied, confused. "Of course not, they weren't as militant as all that!" She chuckled to herself in wry nostalgia, "In fact Magnus loved tradition, anything with a story…" She trailed off, frowning sadly at her, "You don't remember him telling you all the Christmas stories and Yule folk tales?"

Seven felt a shiver run down her spine as a vivid recollection of her father's deep, soothing voice came back to her with a jolt, but she couldn't associate it with any particular story. She could dimly recall him explaining something about 'Junior' the drone to her, but Irene wouldn't want to hear that.

Irene's shoulders slumped slightly at her deer in the headlights expression, but managed to summon up a reassuring, if faint, smile for her. She couldn't tell her it didn't matter, because in truth it _did_ , but she was bitterly aware that it wasn't Annika's fault. "Don't worry Annika." She finally murmured bravely, swallowing hard. She diverted the subject slightly, "Really, it isn't odd for otherwise secular people to happily celebrate Christmas and many other festivities of that sort. After all…" She laughed once more, "…we've been celebrating Yule here since pre-Christian times, winter would be quite miserable otherwise. It's just been adapted over the centuries like anything else."

Seven nodded easily in acknowledgement of her point, "Yes, I've found that humans will accept any excuse to…" She struggled for the correct expression, meeting her aunt's eye questioningly, "…'let their hair down', even the utterly expected Winter Solstice."

Irene chuckled, "You're right of course, and why not? Every community, every family, needs an opportunity to reconnect, and indulgent food and gifts don't hurt!"

Seven smirked at the latter half of the sentiment, "Agreed." She replied simply, then grew more thoughtful and serious. "Then you'd argue that these festivities are necessary, that they are relevant to the 24th Century?"

"Oh never more relevant!" Irene told her passionately, indulging her niece's word choice, "With the trauma of the Dominion War, and how disparate families are, we need some festive cheer. It's always been a bright spot at the end of any difficult year, no matter what the century!" The pain that flashed across her face told Seven she was speaking from personal experience. "Has your crew arranged anything special for the festive season?" she asked smoothly, again deftly changing the subject.

Seven stiffened, suddenly unwilling to admit to her aunt, even by omission, just how much she kept herself aloof from Voyager's social scene. "I do not believe so." She mumbled.

Surprise and a brief flare of disapproval was vivid on Irene's face before she schooled her expression into gracious understanding. "Of course, perhaps the crew decide not to make a big deal about it. Everyone must be missing their families."

Seven bowed her head, thinking again of the calls she witnessed and letters she'd sent on the data stream. "Yes, naturally."

"Annika…" Irene began thickly, then paused uncertainly before deciding to press on. "Trust me when I tell you that your parents celebrated wonderful Christmases with you, and they always loved getting you ready for Luciadagen. You even got presents on your name day too." Anything to brighten your lonely days on that damned ship, she thought unhappily to herself.

Seven gulped as waves of confusing, largely unconnected thoughts and images were brought on by Irene's words. For once, she allowed herself to pull on the weak thread of memory, took the risk that it might all unravel. "Yes…" She whispered, "Papa put me on his shoulders to put the star on the tree, even though it was a little one on the ship, not like the big one we'd have at home…" She trailed off, letting her eyes close as she thrown back into her younger self, little Annika. "I loved my special Lucia costume so much…"

"You never wanted to take it off!" Irene clarified, "The last time I saw you as Lucia…" She took a deep breath to contain emotion, "…when you were three, you insisted on wearing that white dress every day afterwards! Your poor mother had to wash it every night when you went to bed! By Christmas through, she'd convinced you to just wear the red sash that was your favourite part…"

"Papa and Mama never let me have real candles on my crown." Seven recalled, "They made me settle for an electric equivalent."

"Oh yes." Irene responded with a twinkle in her eyes, "I remember your tantrums on that score Annika!"

Seven had the grace to blush, but then another thought occurred to her. "Did you make Lussekatt this year?"

Irene met her gaze knowingly, "Yes, of course, and I'm in the middle of making knäck for my julbord." As she'd known she would, Annika licked her lips a little at the thought. "You still have your sweet tooth Annika."

Seven would not quite be drawn on that, though she did arch her optical implant. "Perhaps." She conceded.

"How about I send you the family recipes in tomorrow's data stream?" Irene suggested, "If you can bear to share it with your friends, the recipes are designed for big families."

Seven smiled ruefully, "The Captain often describes Voyager's crew as a family." She confirmed, only truly realising, as she reminisced as her crewmates had been doing, both how vital that supposed function was, and how insufficient compared to what was missing.

"Of course, you have to be." Irene murmured, her blue eyes, identical to Seven's, full of empathy.

The Astrometrics console bleeped its warning. "We are approaching our time limit Aunt Irene." Seven advised, surprising herself with the sorrow in her voice.

"I'll send the recipes tomorrow." Irene assured her hurriedly before settling back in her chair and giving her one last warm, glowing smile. "God Jul, min älskling."

"Thank you." Seven replied in a whisper. "God Jul." She got the words out just before the screen went blank abruptly and Irene's friendly face had disappeared.

* * *

Chakotay's stride unconsciously quickened as he entered Astrometrics and was struck by Seven standing alone. Not an unusual occurrence by itself, but the fact that she wasn't working on anything, but staring into space with a troubled expression; that was certainly out of the ordinary. He had to actually touch her arm before she registered his presence. A rosy blush coated her too pale cheeks as her wide gaze jolted to his, but in the next moment she tensed under his hand, her guard flying up. "Commander." She stated stiltedly by way of greeting.

Chakotay gazed back at her intently. "Seven, are you okay?"

Seven started to sigh, then caught herself, shoulders bracing. "I am functional Commander."

Chakotay shook his head gently, "I know, but I didn't mean it that way. You just seemed a little…distracted." Seven shifted, her eyes flickering skittishly, then finally sighed, her mouth twisting in frustration. Chakotay recognised those signals as tell-tale signs she was struggling to express herself. He never liked to put words in her mouth, but after yesterday's conversation he felt he could guess where to prod. "Did you call your aunt?"

Seven flashed him the ghost of a grateful smile. "I did." She confirmed, hastily moving to reassure him as she read his worried expression, "It was a very pleasant conversation…quite enlightening." She shivered, feeling the heaviness settle back on her as her mind resumed feverishly sifting through the scant memories her conversation with Irene had roused. They buzzed around inside her, tiny, stinging, painful. Yet they were so insignificant, the thought that she'd once had a tinsel covered hair band that she'd loved, that Mama had always worn red and green nail varnish on alternate nails throughout the holiday, that Papa had let her pull all the crackers… It was simple torment, and she couldn't even unburden herself of these memories just because they were so unremarkable. Irrelevant to anyone except herself and perhaps Irene, anyone else who'd known and loved her parents. Chakotay's warm, gently concerned eyes started to draw the memories from her as a moth is attracted to a candle, but as her lips parted she abruptly remembered her holographic confidante with a stab of shameful pain.

Chakotay leaned on the console, peering at her. She'd just been about to say something… "Seven?" he prompted cautiously.

Seven met his eye resignedly. "It is…difficult." She admitted in a small voice.

Chakotay studied her intently, touching her quivering human hand as it splayed over the console for support. "It's okay to feel lonely after a call like that." He advised her, taking a punt as to the problem. "It's natural."

Seven exhaled hoarsely, confirming his diagnosis, even while she thought to herself how little he really knew. Loneliness had been her constant companion, though it had evolved from a need for the Collective to a longing for simple individual contact. For _him_ to bring this up… Missing Irene was another, new, facet for her, familial loneliness she supposed. "Yes." She eventually replied, "Natural. Commander, I do not think I have expressed sufficient compassion for my crewmates while being in charge of the MIDAS array."

"Seven, I know you've been perfectly professional." Chakotay answered immediately, then paused as her face fell, perhaps feeling damned by faint praise. "No one doubts your compassion anymore Seven, least of all me." He assured her, "Listening to all these calls must be rough, I hadn't considered…" He trailed off awkwardly, "I think most of the crew are relieved that you're…careful in this situation, sometimes the overflow of sympathy makes it all worse, as long as you try to be understanding." He smiled at her in silent reassurance that he knew she could be, that she was worried over it was evidence enough. "I know it'll be hard for me, when I make that Christmas call to my sister."

Seven was glad to grasp a fleeting, thoughtless question to distract herself. "Your people celebrate Christmas?"

Chakotay chuckled ruefully at her surprise, "Well no, not _all_ of them of course, but its widely celebrated. You would've heard 'Merry Christmas!' or more likely '¡Feliz Navidad!' just as often on Dorvan V as on any part of Earth."

Seven ducked her head, mortified. "I apologise, I should not have presumed…"

"It's a common presumption." Chakotay replied mildly, "But everyone should remember too that the vast majority of my people are from Central America originally, where Christmas is still a public holiday." As close a generation as his grandparents, at least his maternal set, had revered the Holy Family just as much as the Mayan pantheon. As for his father's family, with its distorted pedigree, they had attached themselves to ancient tradition more vehemently and self-consciously a couple of generations further back, but he also knew he'd had Catholic priests on that side somewhere as recently as the mid-21st Century.

Seven nodded, but then frowned in thought. "But the calendar of Dorvan and other colonial planets is of course quite different from that of Earth. Did you merely coordinate with Earth's celebration?"

Chakotay beamed at her for the insightful question, "Ah, that's where we did show our independence. Actually, Dorvan's calendar is only a few days out from Earth's but our Christmas always matched our December 25th. Some families said that Santa Claus sent a deputy to our North Pole, but my family maintained we had our own Santa."

Seven smirked to herself, "In Sweden it's traditionally a Jultomten, which translates as…'Christmas Gnome' who performs the gift giving, or even a Julbocken, a 'Christmas Goat'." She smirked at him, "The differences between cultures would perhaps be an interesting anthropological study."

"It would." Chakotay agreed good-humouredly, unguardedly basking in memories he rarely indulged in. "The village would hold a big Puntina dance and some of the neighbours would always have volcancitos and estrellitas for us…"

"'Little volcanos and little stars?" Seven repeated in translation blankly.

"Little fountains and sparklers." Chakotay explained, "Adults would get firecrackers and fireworks." He started to smile as the vivid scenes appeared in his mind's eye, but anger settled back into his gut as he thought of how his home had been torn apart, its traditions and its people wiped out.

Seven, perhaps seeing it on his face, or even recalling a little of it, if his experiences of their brief link were anything to go by, touched his shoulder. "It sounds wonderful." She told him softly.

"Yes, it was." Chakotay murmured, "My mother was so stubbornly traditional, my father soon stopped arguing, that my sister and I even had a few gifts held back for the Tres Reyes Magos to give us on the 6th of January."

"Your mother loved Christmas."

"She did." Chakotay whispered thickly.

Following Irene's earlier lead, Seven changed the subject. "Irene Hansen did not quite approve that Voyager does not hold any festive celebrations."

Chakotay blinked at her, "But we do." He answered, "On a small scale, so that no one needs to be upset, but we do." He gave a small laugh, "Neelix wouldn't have it otherwise."

Seven coloured, mortified that she'd been caught out on her ignorance. Of course it should hardly come as any surprise to him that she ignored and avoided social events, she hadn't cared, and could continue not to care, but still… "I…I hadn't realised…"

Chakotay patted her hand that still lingered on his shoulder. "You haven't missed it yet this year. Neelix is preparing tonight for it all to kick off tomorrow." He risked smiled at her encouragingly, though that hadn't worked when he'd invited her to the cooking class. "I have it on good authority that Naomi's going, and that she talked Icheb into attending…" He smirked at her rising brows, "…and that she's coming to talk you into it anytime now." He winked, "I think you'd be better off just agreeing to go with me now."

Seven wasn't entirely sure that he was joking. "Is that so?" she managed to reply with difficulty, her will to refuse wearing down as she was faced with his warmth and her fresh need to keep the loneliness at bay. "Well…" She began in an effort to save face, "Aunt Irene is going to send me some Christmas recipes, perhaps I can modify Neelix's menu."

Chakotay grinned at her. "Please!" He laughed before tentatively offering her his arm, "We'd better start working on him now if we want him to agree."

"A reasonable plan Commander." Seven agreed with a small smile as she took a deep breath and lightly grasped his arm.

* * *

 **A/n: Please review! :)**

" **Wesołych Świąt!"** **, "God Jul" and" Feliz Navidad" is 'Merry Christmas' in Polish, Swedish and Spanish respectively.**

 **A lot of cultural information here: Luciadagen is the Swedish name for St. Lucia's Day (13** **th** **of December) the traditional start of the Christmas season there. A family's eldest daughter dresses as Lucia with white robe, red sash and crown of candles to represent Lucia bringing light. Lussekatt are saffron buns the girls give out on that day. Knäck is Swedish toffee similar to butterscotch made for the Julbord, the Christmas dinner. Christmas Eve is the main day of Christmas in Sweden. A puntina is a hat worn to perform a line dance on Christmas Day in Guatemala, where Mayan and Christian traditions are mixed. Fireworks, sparklers etc. are used in El Salvador. Chakotay also mentions that his mother maintained the Hispanic tradition of the Three Wise Men arriving with gifts on Epiphany (6** **th** **of January).**

 **Whew, thanks Wikipedia! Lol.**

 **Merry Christmas to all my lovely readers. :)**


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